The paradox... 

I am in love with the very thing that constantly bleeds me

I can hardly recognize hands

The palms that once had a simple shade of pale for lack of blood

Now painted with love, in red yet so much pain…

Walking away feels like I leave my soul behind and I run empty

Yet holding on echoes failure….

Exhausted empty drained tired

Seems like I chose to tie myself with that when I chose you

You leave me empty and daily I regret…

Did I choose you? Did you choose me?

I would like to go back to the time before we met so I can clearly choose the other way

I do not want to give out pieces of myself with the hope that I piece you together

Broken

2am I forgot to chase my dream I forgot to ask in prayer the thing I needed

Because my desire for you took everything even the little prayer I can barely say

I only have enough strength to breath

Just inhale enough so I survive today

Just hold my breath so I make it…so I make it

I chase after sleep so I silence the deeper yearning in me to see you

Yet I find even that is impossible because you have engraved youself in my mind

Your image sticks when I lay asleep

Your smell is strong to wake me from any form of sleep

My eyes widen as soon as you walk past

You refuse me rest…

Why!

Was I so delicate and inviting that you chose me?

Was it my strength or the colour of my confidence?

Was it my past that I could not erase but only learn to deal with?

Was it my story that made you believe I am worth you…

That you lay so much on me and make me belive I can

Where did we meet? Was it when I was little and hopeful?

Was it during the time I thought I could change the world?

Was it when I saw my own reflection in pain and thought that maybe,

Maybe if I cant save myself then I can save her

Maybe if I fail I can stop of her from failing

That maybe if I can show her my ugly scar, tell her the true story that I never really loved myself and that maybe she can love who she is

Was it the day when abuse was my daily meal that I learned to wear strength and pride

When I learned that wearing a skirt might be offensive so I never really wore it just blown out pants that helped me hide because that was easy…

I am in love with you…

Yet you hurt me. You bruise me from inside and colour my face with strength that people see you and believe I am alive. That I am ohk

They see you and applaud congradulate and celebrate

When I tell them I am dying they say it  worth it…

PASSION….

On good days I wake up with eagerness joy zeal and devotion

Then next? Agony distress resentment. A paradox of my life I learn to deal with

Faking it. Faking it. Faking it.

I resent her for wanting to hold on, yet applaud her devotion

Some would call it strong but other days I believe it is ridiculously stupid to continue loving the very thing that bleeds you..

Hurt I can bear. Headache I can handle

Your ability to make me believe I am a failure when I have poured out everything I am to you

You strip me of my identity, value and faith

Loving you and committing to you cost my soul…my spirit my being

It is in your ability to torment and haunt me yet I wake up tomorrow still wanting you

A glimpse of hope I have

That maybe all we need is time…

Dear Passion

Was it me ? was it you?

Did we just walk up to each other? Did our paths just cross?

Are we headed the same way? Or you only here to leave me broken and unstable

Were we meant to be?